There was no other word for it. The ability to control someone else, to puppet their movements . . . hadn't they just spoken about how horrifying it was? Hadn't he just said he'd rather die than ever go through that again? God, and Polnareff glanced away, turning his gaze to a spot on the wall. He couldn't look at Kakyoin right then.
Because, see, the thing was: he could do that to Polnareff right now. He wouldn't, but he could, easy as anything, and that was the most terrifying thought of all. It wouldn't take Dio growing up in order for Polnareff to fall back into some brainwashed drone; all it would take would be a Kakyoin who felt he had due cause. And this city . . . it messed with your head. Made you see things that weren't there and believe things you knew to be a lie.
If Ruby City could make him believe Sherry was alive and well, how hard would it be for it to make Kakyoin believe using that ability was justified?
He exhaled a low, gusty breath, his eyes closing for a moment. Even the hypothetical made his skin crawl and his throat close.
That was a danger. That was likely a danger Kakyoin worried about every day; he'd lived here for over a year and had gone through all kinds of weird shit. He must have thought about that scenario. He must have talked it over with Jotaro. Did they have some kind of fail-safe plan? Probably. He would ask about that later, maybe. Maybe the plan was just to try and put Kakyoin down until he regained his sanity, and pray Star could beat Hierophant a second time.
But beyond that scenario . . . Polnareff's mind shifted. Went not to a Kakyoin armed and wielding that ability with vicious precision, but to the nineteen-year-old sitting in the chair not two meters away.
God, but he had to be terrified. I knew if the rest of you found out . . . what? Isolation? Or worse? Was Kakyoin waiting for Chariot's sword to reappear? Was he thinking that he'd lost Polnareff as a friend? Well, maybe that latter thought wasn't entirely out of the question. God only knew no one could blame him if he got up and walked out right now. You remind me of the worst time of my life, he could say, and how could anyone dare question that reasoning?
Except . . .
Kakyoin had come down here tonight. He hadn't asked questions, he hadn't sneered or teased or insulted. He'd come down after one desperate text, and he'd sat and listened. He could have protested or ignored the text, but there hadn't been a moment's hesitation. It wasn't the first time, either. He'd offered distraction after Sherry's death here. He hadn't probed or pried; just gave Polnareff a way out of his own head for a while.
You could take any Stand and make it into something horrifying, Polnareff thought, if you had a mind to. You could take Chariot and make him into an instrument of torture, if you had the will and the inclination.]
It's a little like Jotaro and Star, stopping time.
[He said it slowly, staring at the floor. It wasn't dishonesty that made him look away; there was just too much emotion between the two of them for Polnareff to meet Kakyoin's gaze.]
You didn't kill any innocents, though. In that fight I can't remember. You didn't . . . you just fought, using all you had, against someone trying to kill you. Right? Just like Jotaro did, fighting Dio. You used every trick you had, because there you were on your own and you needed to stay alive and make it to tomorrow.
[He glanced back up at Kakyoin. His voice was thick, but his words were clear and steady, and there was no loathing or repulsion in his expression.]
I can't-- I can't tell you I'm fine with it, or that I ever want to know what that's like. I don't even want to think about it much after tonight. But--
[He gestured up towards Hierophant.]
You can't just-- Stands aren't just reflections. It's how you use them. And you've never used yours-- you've never used yours-- to hurt anyone who wasn't already trying to hurt you. I know you haven't, and I know you won't. And that's . . . that's the difference between you and Dio. That's why you're always going to be my friend.
no subject
There was no other word for it. The ability to control someone else, to puppet their movements . . . hadn't they just spoken about how horrifying it was? Hadn't he just said he'd rather die than ever go through that again? God, and Polnareff glanced away, turning his gaze to a spot on the wall. He couldn't look at Kakyoin right then.
Because, see, the thing was: he could do that to Polnareff right now. He wouldn't, but he could, easy as anything, and that was the most terrifying thought of all. It wouldn't take Dio growing up in order for Polnareff to fall back into some brainwashed drone; all it would take would be a Kakyoin who felt he had due cause. And this city . . . it messed with your head. Made you see things that weren't there and believe things you knew to be a lie.
If Ruby City could make him believe Sherry was alive and well, how hard would it be for it to make Kakyoin believe using that ability was justified?
He exhaled a low, gusty breath, his eyes closing for a moment. Even the hypothetical made his skin crawl and his throat close.
That was a danger. That was likely a danger Kakyoin worried about every day; he'd lived here for over a year and had gone through all kinds of weird shit. He must have thought about that scenario. He must have talked it over with Jotaro. Did they have some kind of fail-safe plan? Probably. He would ask about that later, maybe. Maybe the plan was just to try and put Kakyoin down until he regained his sanity, and pray Star could beat Hierophant a second time.
But beyond that scenario . . . Polnareff's mind shifted. Went not to a Kakyoin armed and wielding that ability with vicious precision, but to the nineteen-year-old sitting in the chair not two meters away.
God, but he had to be terrified. I knew if the rest of you found out . . . what? Isolation? Or worse? Was Kakyoin waiting for Chariot's sword to reappear? Was he thinking that he'd lost Polnareff as a friend? Well, maybe that latter thought wasn't entirely out of the question. God only knew no one could blame him if he got up and walked out right now. You remind me of the worst time of my life, he could say, and how could anyone dare question that reasoning?
Except . . .
Kakyoin had come down here tonight. He hadn't asked questions, he hadn't sneered or teased or insulted. He'd come down after one desperate text, and he'd sat and listened. He could have protested or ignored the text, but there hadn't been a moment's hesitation. It wasn't the first time, either. He'd offered distraction after Sherry's death here. He hadn't probed or pried; just gave Polnareff a way out of his own head for a while.
You could take any Stand and make it into something horrifying, Polnareff thought, if you had a mind to. You could take Chariot and make him into an instrument of torture, if you had the will and the inclination.]
It's a little like Jotaro and Star, stopping time.
[He said it slowly, staring at the floor. It wasn't dishonesty that made him look away; there was just too much emotion between the two of them for Polnareff to meet Kakyoin's gaze.]
You didn't kill any innocents, though. In that fight I can't remember. You didn't . . . you just fought, using all you had, against someone trying to kill you. Right? Just like Jotaro did, fighting Dio. You used every trick you had, because there you were on your own and you needed to stay alive and make it to tomorrow.
[He glanced back up at Kakyoin. His voice was thick, but his words were clear and steady, and there was no loathing or repulsion in his expression.]
I can't-- I can't tell you I'm fine with it, or that I ever want to know what that's like. I don't even want to think about it much after tonight. But--
[He gestured up towards Hierophant.]
You can't just-- Stands aren't just reflections. It's how you use them. And you've never used yours-- you've never used yours-- to hurt anyone who wasn't already trying to hurt you. I know you haven't, and I know you won't. And that's . . . that's the difference between you and Dio. That's why you're always going to be my friend.